


Home for the Holidays

by whatyoufish4



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Crew as Family, Friendship, Gen, It's Christmas I can write shameless fluff if I want to, Mischief doesn't have to be mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatyoufish4/pseuds/whatyoufish4
Summary: Yuletide aboard the Asgardian Ark.





	1. Christmas Past

“Do you know what day it is?” Loki’s voice drifted from somewhere over her left shoulder.

The Valkyrie sat on her bench and considered. She usually got this question correct up to seven drinks in, but she was currently on her ninth and such a bet was no longer a certainty. She drummed her fingers on the mess hall tabletop, calculating. “… Tuesday?”

There was the faintest of pauses. “Well, no, that’s not actually what I meant. Although, for the record, it’s Sunday.” There was another pause, and then, to her slight surprise, Loki was swinging onto the bench beside her. “But what I meant was, do you know what holiday it is? Because it is, in fact, a holiday.”

She turned her head to appraise him over the bottom of the bottle she was taking a swig from. 

“It’s Jóladagur,” he said at last, when she remained silent. “Well, the night before, actually.”

“Ah,” said the Valkyrie. “Isn’t that something.” She peered into the neck of the bottle. “Might explain all the cinnamon in this ale.”

Loki creased his brow. “That sounds horrible.”

“It is,” she agreed, swigging again. “Cook must’ve been feeling festive.”

“Er, right,” said Loki. “Well. Anyway. As you know, the tradition on the eve of Yule is to …”

He stopped abruptly, and she took the time to reach for a fresh bottle, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she turned to look at him, only to see he was holding up a mound of crushed paper. Or at least, she assumed there was paper underneath the solid coating of bows and ribbons.

Bows. And ribbons.

“Is that a present?” she asked, the final word half-broken by a hiccup. 

His brow creased again. “Sorry?”

“A present,” she said, gesturing with her bottle at the lumpy bundle.

“Ah!” said Loki, suddenly averting his eyes. “Er, um. Yes. Yes it is.”

“Is it for me?” she asked, breaking open the new bottle.

“… Yes,” he said, almost carefully. 

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“ _Why,_ ” she emphasized, “Are you giving me a present?”

“Oh.” He looked down at the bundle as if it might contain the answer to her question. “Ah. Yes. Well. Well, I just – I thought – I know, when we were fighting before, and I saw … and I am sorry about that, by the way, but I needed to know what I was up against, and … well, but anyway, I just, I felt … like maybe you understood … I mean, that maybe _I_ understand …”

“Oh, Odin’s beard,” she groaned, and reached beneath the bench of the mess hall table. A moment later and she slapped her own messily-wrapped bundle of cloth on the table in front of him. “Here.”

He stared at it without speaking for several long moments. “Is _that_ a present?”

“Yes,” she said, a trifle defensive. “Don’t judge; I did the best I could with the wrapping.”

He looked up from the present at her. “Is it for me?”

She gave him a _what-do-you-think_ expression.

His face was the picture of utter bafflement. “You’re giving _me_ a present?”

“You said it was Jóladagur,” she said pointedly. “Are you going to give me mine, or what?”

“Oh. Right,” and he placed the package in front of her. There were so many ribbons it took her a moment to see the color of the paper underneath. Silver. From the corner of her eye, she could see Loki tugging at the twine around the cloth-wrapped bundle she’d handed him, looking as if he couldn’t believe it was there.

A few moments of rustling paper and unfolding cloth. And then they stared at the identical blue-hilted daggers they’d each unwrapped from their respective packages. 

There was silence for several more heartbeats.

“Uru blade?” she asked at last, staring at her new dagger.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes on his own dagger. “Star-quartz handle?”

“Yup,” she agreed, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch. She hid it by taking another bottle-swig. When she turned to him, she was just in time to see him marshal his beaming grin into a more acceptably-sly half-smile.

He snagged a glass from further down the table and held it up to her in a toast. “To the only two passengers on this wretched ship with any proper taste.”

She finally let loose her own grin as she tapped his glass in return. “I’ll drink to that.”


	2. Christmas Present

“So … so this is like a Christmas present,” said Bruce. He looked down at the package, then back up at Loki. “Where did you get all these ribbons?”

“Just open it, Banner,” said Loki, clearly exasperated. It had been ten minutes before Bruce had been willing to even hold the package, convinced this was all some sort of mischief on Loki’s part. 

Squinting suspiciously, Bruce tugged apart the ribbons and wrapping, revealing a wooden box. He set the box on the makeshift lab table and pulled off the lid.

“Um … thank you,” he said, looking down at the contents.

Loki beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“What, um …” Bruce looked up. “I, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but … what is it?”

“Oh!” Loki reached into the box and plucked out the thick, clear disk, framed in interlocking bronze rings. “It’s a scientific instrument. I believe you’d call it a Microsoft.”

“A what-now?”

Loki considered for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Micro _scope._ A microscope.”

“It is?” Bruce could hear the doubt in his voice and hoped Loki took it as disbelief about the item’s functionality, rather than his wavering suspicion as to whether or not Loki was actually attempting to do something nice. 

“Allow me to demonstrate,” said Loki, either not hearing the doubt or remaining unbothered by it. The trickster plucked the contraption delicately from the box, then set it down on top of the table. 

The motion seemed to activate something within the mechanism, and the metal rings began to spin and twist around each other. Bruce moved a hand to keep it from rolling off the table, but to his surprise, the spinning frames stayed upright in midair, hovering an inch above the table. Loki touched a finger to the side of the center bronze ring, and instantly the spinning stopped, the circles of metal locking into place, the entire devise still hovering. The trickster drew out a single thread, placed it beneath the contraption, and then touched a different circle.

The device whirred and clicked, and suddenly a three-dimensional hologram was beaming into the air from the lens below. The image spun slowly, showing a segment of the thread, the thick woven braids so enlarged they put Bruce in mind of a ship’s rope. 

Bruce felt his mouth drop open.

“If you spin the side ring, here, you can increase the magnification,” Loki added helpfully. “It should be comparable to your electron microscopes on Earth.”

“Loki, this is – amazing,” Bruce breathed, moving the ring. “Thank you. I’m finally going to be able to do some real research here! I’ve been swimming in alien technology, in materials from other damn _planets,_ and I haven’t been able to make any headway studying it. This is going to change everything. This is …” He shook his head, standing back to take it in. “Where did you … _how_ did you get this?”

“The last trading outpost had a not-unreasonable supply of scientific equipment,” said Loki, looking undeniably pleased with himself. “I thought maybe a holiday gesture would not be entirely uncalled for, given – ”

“A holiday gesture?” said Bruce, distracted, currently trying to tug out a strand of his own hair to try beneath the microscope. Then he seemed to catch himself. “Oh, right! I got something for you, too!”

“Something for me?”

“A present.” Bruce reached behind the steel table that served as his lab desk to grab for the package. He held it out to Loki.

Loki looked dumbfounded. “ _You_ got me a Yule present too?”

“A Christmas present, yeah.” Bruce blinked slightly. “Wait, what do you mean ‘too?’”

“Never mind,” said Loki, looking slightly awkward as he took the gift. “Should I … should I open it?”

“Might as well,” said Bruce, shrugging. “I opened mine.”

Bruce folded his arms and grinned, amused and strangely touched at Loki’s awkwardness. The guy did seem to be trying – at least for today. Maybe Christmas really could bring out the best in anybody.

Loki opened his present slowly, as if enjoying the growing suspense. When he had it completely out of its wrapper, he held it in front of him for long moments, not speaking.

Bruce began to feel nervous. “Your brother said something about you liking cows.”

The trickster regarded the green sweater, still silent. It had a knit pattern on the front of a brown cow. “He would,” he muttered at last, but Bruce realized, with a start, that Loki’s eyes were dancing.

“I was trying to find something personal,” said Bruce, unsure how to read what was happening.

Loki finally looked up from the sweater. “Where _did_ you find it?” 

“It – it wasn’t so much a find as a commission. Korg knits. I think he had a little trouble getting the concept of cows, though.”

Loki appraised the sweater once more. “That _would_ explain why it’s smiling.”

Bruce winced. He really had had the best of intentions, but getting a futuristically-advanced microscope, especially one that hadn’t turned out to be a joke or a trick, that had in fact turned out to be a genuine gesture … well. That went beyond a handmade item, even if it was custom. “If you don’t like it –”

“No,” said Loki firmly. He folded the green sweater carefully, making sure not to wrinkle the print. “No, I – thank you, Bruce.” Then he arched an eyebrow. “We do seem to share an affinity for green.”

Bruce glared, but couldn’t hold back his chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's suggestion of a bovine-themed gift for his little brother comes from a Thor (2011) deleted scene: gifs [here](https://78.media.tumblr.com/97f2e83555467ebcc196746d2f9d51e4/tumblr_inline_p1j84pvT6y1ry1ewr_500.gif) and [here](https://78.media.tumblr.com/385f2bda3b97c856f0631553c3be9052/tumblr_inline_p1j84puDzW1ry1ewr_500.gif).


	3. Christmas Future

_Midgardian Calendar: New Year’s Eve_

He was trying very hard not to sulk.

The hour was late. Loki lounged awkwardly on the bed, propped up on cushions in a vain attempt to find a suitable position. He was uncomfortable, the wound on his leg throbbing no matter how he tried to sit. He was certainly not in agony – Eir had given him something in the infirmary that had taken care of the worst of the pain – but he knew he was not going to be falling asleep anytime soon. He was tired and aching and just a little bit embarrassed, and sulking seemed like a wholly appealing activity just at the moment.

He cast his gaze around the room, attempting to distract himself. It was a small but perfectly adequate bunk, the bed built into the wall and with just enough room to squeeze in a table beside him. There was also a porthole-sized window, which was more than most of the ship’s passengers could lay claim to, and he’d been grateful for it when Thor had presented the bunk to him. 

It was the window to which his gaze was eventually drawn, given as the room rather lacked for any other form of entertainment. He had always loved stargazing. He used to spend hours looking up at the stars, wondering how many of them were home to other peoples. He’d always envied Heimdall, able to look into them and see the mysteries, the stories they contained. 

And what did the stars hold now? Everything they had lost? Or everything they still hoped to find? 

A promise? Or a portent? 

The sound of a knock startled him. He jumped slightly, jostling his knee, which set off a flare of pain that drew from him a startled yelp.

“Loki?” Thor’s voice, muted by the door, was no less distinctive. 

“I’m here,” sighed Loki, twisting himself up into a proper sitting position and wincing.

“Can I come in?”

“What? Yes, of course.” 

There was a pause. “You locked the door.”

“… Dammit,” Loki muttered, then raised his voice. “Hang on a moment.”

It took him whole minutes to drag himself to his feet, then hobble across the room. He clicked off the lock, then opened the door more or less by hanging his weight on it and swinging it open.

He looked up from his half-prone position to see Thor standing in the open doorway with a mild expression on his face. “This is an interesting approach. Should you be on that leg?”

“Please shut up,” said Loki, cheerfully. “And make yourself useful, would you?”

Thor leaned down, allowing Loki to throw an arm over his shoulders so that he could support his brother back across the room. For a brief instant, Loki realized he had not only asked Thor to help him, but had done so without really thinking about it – without, in fact, much minding it. 

“Why’d you get up? Why didn’t you just magic the lock open?” asked Thor, easing Loki onto the edge of the bed.

“I’ve put half a dozen spells on that lock to make it unbreakable. Magicking it open would mean undoing all my hard work.” Loki pushed himself back into the nest of cushions, mildly disappointed to find there was no more comfortable position then there had been before. “I could cast the same charms on your door, if you like. Today’s adventure was a handy reminder that this ship is not impregnable.” 

“I think I’m good. Thanks all the same.” Thor waited until Loki had more or less settled before perching himself on the edge of the bed. Then he hesitated.

“Is something wrong? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Some spectacular new maintenance emergency. Or someone’s attacking us again.” Loki closed his eyes briefly and groaned. “Oh, it’s the bloody primary conduits outside the engine room, isn’t it?” He started to shift, gathering himself to stand. “I told Korg –”

“Sit,” said Thor, firmly, giving Loki’s shoulder a squeeze. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“I – oh.” Loki sat back, suddenly feeling awkward. “Then, why’re you here?”

“I came to see how you’re feeling.” Thor smiled. “Like a hero, I expect.”

“Actually, no,” said Loki, his voice mild. “I’m feeling like an idiot. Two months ago, I faced off against an army of undead warriors during the Apocalypse of Asgard and emerged without a scratch. Today, I spend ten minutes fighting a group of incompetent space pirates and I get shot. It's undignified.”

Thor laughed. “At least the fight gave you a chance to try out your new dagger.” His words and smile were teasing, but his good eye shone with kindness. “Those people you were protecting in the corridors – they told me what you did. You saved lives today, Loki. Again. And this time, you even bled for it.”

Embarrassed anew, Loki feigned mock indignity. “Surely, after my previous heroism during Ragnarok, that doesn’t surprise you?” 

Thor still smiled, unfooled. “I’m more interested in knowing if you surprised yourself today, Brother.”

And suddenly Loki was at a loss for words. Funny, how a softening of the armor of sarcasm could result in nothing but silent vulnerability. _Don’t give up on me,_ he almost started to say, but then he stopped himself. He knew better now. Thor’s belief in him meant the world, but it was not the key. Perhaps it never had been. 

The key was that Loki must not give up on himself.

He cleared his throat, unsure of how to say any of it, unsure of what he even wanted to say. And then he looked up, and his brother was holding a paper-wrapped bundle out to him.

“You are kidding me,” said Loki. His voice was flat but he could feel the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

“I hear everyone else got you a present this year.” Thor raised an eyebrow and waggled the package at him. “What kind of big brother would I be?”

“It’s – it’s not even Jóladagur any longer.” Was it only by habit that Loki was stalling? He wasn’t sure himself.

“Eh, it’s still within the season.” Thor grasped one of Loki’s wrists and plopped the package into his hand. “Go on.”

“I, well – alright, then.” Loki pulled at the green paper, shaking his head slightly and smiling in spite of himself. “The yellow bow’s a nice touch. I thought I was the only one on this ship who knew where to get …”

The words caught in his throat. Nestled in the remnants of paper was a tattered blue book, its cover faded with age. The gold ink of the title still shone in the dim light of the cabin: _The Nine Tales of Nine Worlds._

“I thought you could use something to read while you’re recuperating,” said Thor, when Loki still seemed unable to speak.

“This, this can’t really be …” Loki’s hands were shaking as he opened the book and began carefully turning pages. All the stories were there, of course: _The Sword of Surtur, Arvid and the Threads of Asgard, The Shining City of Kaamelot …_

“Remember how we argued every night over which one Mother should read?” Thor tapped an illustration of the Golden Forge of Nidavellir. “I always wanted _The Fires of the Forge,_ but you kept going on about – what was the one? With the baby dragon?”

“ _The Tooth-gift of Taerlareir,_ ” said Loki automatically, turning the pages to find it.

“She must’ve read these stories to us a hundred times.”

“Remember how she always did the voices for the characters?” Loki chuckled and stared down at the illustration of the baby dragon, grateful to be hiding the tears welling in his eyes. “All those books she read us. This one was always my favorite.”

“I know.” Thor’s voice held a thread of pain through the warmth. “Mine too.”

“Thor, _where_ did you find this?” Loki finally trusted himself to look up. “Surely all of Asgard’s books were lost when we – er, well, when _I_ –”

“Asgardian artifacts are scattered across the cosmos, and that includes being scattered at your friendly outer-space trading-post merchant’s stall.” Thor waved a hand. “Our ship seems to be traveling just slightly faster than the news of Asgard’s destruction, so we haven’t even had to deal with price mark-ups yet.”

Loki turned another page, then closed the book almost reverently, cradling it in his hands. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. “Thank you for this.”

Thor rested a hand on the back of Loki’s neck and gave a gentle squeeze, a gesture so ancient to them that Loki felt his throat tighten. “You’re welcome.”

“Well,” said Loki, clearing his throat, then setting the book gently beside him. He started to lean down to reach beneath the bedside table, then grimaced at the shot of pain down his leg. “Perhaps not.” He gestured. “Would you mind?”

Bemused, Thor knelt down to reach beneath the table – and emerged a moment later, clutching a red-wrapped package and chuckling. “And here I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me this year.”

“Try as I might,” said Loki, shaking his head, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth as he watched Thor undo the tangle of ribbons.

Within lay a small, sturdy, quite ordinary hammer. 

Thor raised an eyebrow. “I can’t decide if this is a gag gift or not.”

“No! No …” Oh, how to explain? “Don’t you remember your coronation day?”

“You mean when you set loose a bunch of Frost Giants in the palace and –”

“Yes, let’s not get into all that again,” said Loki, hastily. “No, do you remember what Father said? About Mjölnir? _It's a weapon to destroy or a tool to build. It is a fit companion for a king._ ”

Thor nodded, turning the hammer over in his hands.

“Don’t you see? Ever since that day, ever since you decided to do this whole hero thing, you’ve been called on to … to protect. And that usually means fighting, and, well, and destroying. And sometimes, yes, that’s the way it must be. There are quite a few nasty aliens out there; believe me, I’ve seen more than my share. And that means that our people need protectors. But that’s not all they need. And that’s not all that you are.”

Thor’s good eye locked on Loki’s own.

“You lost your hammer, but you found a better way to fight. A deeper way. And now it’s time to find a way to build again, too. And you will. Because you are not just a fighter. You build people up. You’ll build _our_ people up. And, I just – well. I just don’t want you forgetting that.” The last few sentences had come out in a rush. Loki looked down, embarrassed afresh. He reached back to retrieve his book. “And now,” he said, eyes on the book in his lap, “if you’ll excuse me, I have some reading to do.”

“Not so fast,” said Thor, gently setting the hammer down on the table. And before Loki quite knew what was happening, Thor had reached out and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you, Brother,” said Thor, quietly, through the hug. And then Thor suddenly paused, his hand patting Loki’s back. “Wait. Are you doing an illusion right now? Because it _looks_ like you’re wearing Álfheim linen.”

“Thor –”

“But it doesn’t _feel_ like you’re wearing Álfheim linen.” Thor pulled back, arching an eyebrow. “It feels like you’re wearing wool.”

“Please don't –”

Thor’s face broke into a beaming grin. “You’re wearing Banner’s sweater, aren’t you? You’re wearing the happy cow sweater!”

Loki scowled, opening his mouth to protest – but then he sighed, and allowed the illusion of tunic and robes to fade. In its place was a bright-green sweater with an unexpectedly cheerful bovine. 

“I like it, alright?” he said, almost mournfully. “Don't tell Bruce.”

“I have to tell Bruce!” Thor actually clapped his hands in delight. “He’ll be so proud!”

Loki considered this for several moments. “You can tell Bruce,” he said at last. “But not the Valkyrie.”

Thor crossed his arms over his chest. “Only if you read me _The Fires of the Forge._ ”

Loki blinked, surprised. Then he smothered a grin, and raised a hand in mock-solemn promise. “I’ll even do the voices.”

Thor settled back against the foot of the bed. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Loki’s attempt to explain why he has a present for the Valkyrie is inspired by Tom Hiddleston describing Loki and the Valkyrie’s knife fight scene as a “fight between two people who recognize each other. They’re both solitary cats that walk alone. And they are damaged on the inside. They’ve left a lot of that damage behind. And they’re trying to move past it.”


End file.
